Page 56 of Forced Prisoner By the Bratva

She was adorable, beautiful, and simply wonderful.

Tessa raised her head and met my eyes as I towered over her, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. My lips parted into a smile and stared at my wife with pride etched in my gaze.

This baby was the best thing that had ever happened to me. She was the best gift anyone had ever given me, and despite my happiness and joy, a glint of fear snuck its way into my heart.

I was a father, a man with two beautiful women to protect at all costs, and with that came a shitload of responsibility. It didn't matter whether I was ready or not; the child had arrived, and she had just changed everything.

My eyes shifted once more to the adorable little thing in Tessa's arms, bathed in the warm golden lights that spilled from the large window. The light cast a gentle glow over our daughter's tiny face, highlighting her cute features.

Why couldn't I stop staring at this fragile life in front of me? Why couldn't I stop smiling?

My whole life, I'd never been happier, and ironically, I'd never been more afraid. This child was my legacy; she was a piece of me, an extension of her mother and me. As I stared at that tiny bundle cradled in Tessa's arms, I felt my heart melt.

“She's beautiful.” The words fell out of my mouth, my voice a low, husky whisper. “Just like her mother,” I added, shifting my gaze to my exhausted wife.

Tessa's lips curved into a tired smile, her cheeks flushing at my remark. “Wanna hold her?” she asked, lifting the baby up to me.

At first, my heart skipped a beat, and my eyes widened ever so slightly, taken aback by her subtle suggestion. The baby was too fragile, too tiny and delicate, and for a moment there, I doubted my worth and qualification to handle such a little creature.

Tessa noticed my hesitation and beamed an encouraging smile at me. “You can take down men far more dangerous than you are, but you're afraid of a little baby?” she teased, chuckling, with amusement flickering in her eyes.

A faint grin twitched on the corner of my lips, and before I could give a response, she added, her voice soft and gentle, “You can do it.” She held my gaze, retaining her smile.

I heaved a soft sigh, my heart pounding in my chest as I leaned forward, and she gently placed the infant in my arms.

“There you go,” she muttered, her gaze lingering on me.

The moment that child lay in my arms, it was as though the world around me melted away, leaving just me and this little life I was holding. As she stirred, a scent of baby shampoo and milk wafted through the air, mingling with the antiseptic smell of the hospital ward. The intoxicating combination filled my senses, making my heart swell with emotions.

The baby's coos grew louder, and I felt my chest tighten with pride and protectiveness. At that moment, I knew that there was absolutely nothing that I wouldn't do for this little girl. She was the apple of my eye, and I'd start a war over her—I'd burn the fucking world down just to keep her safe.

A faint and almost undetectable frown flashed across my face as I dispelled the thought of anything bad ever happening to her. Not while I still had life in me. Never. I'd do anything to protect my little one from harm. And whoever would be unfortunate enough to so much as touch a single hair on her head would face my wrath.

My daughter was my legacy, my pride, and she was not to be touched—she was off-limits.

I reached out a trembling hand, my fingers brushing against my little one's downy hair. I locked eyes with the baby, and a shiver ran down my spine, my smile broadening. “She has my eyes,” I muttered, overwhelmed with emotions as I stared into those green depths.

“Yes, she does,” Tessa said, looking up at me, her dark eyes shining with unshed tears of joy.

The little one had my eyes, but she was also a spitting image of her mother. It was like looking at a mini Tessa: beautiful and radiant.

Beyond my protectiveness and pride was something a lot deeper, something that I’d yet to name. For a man such as myself, who'd built my life on control and power, this fragile little thing in my hands undid me in ways I never expected.

My heart was filled with joy and gratitude as I stared back at my wife. “Thank you,” I said, my voice low.

Her lips parted into an amazing smile, a palm flying to her chest as a soft expression settled on her face.

Tessa was a lot stronger than I’d thought. Her labor was a hard one, and I witnessed her strength in ways that baffled me. Despite the pain she endured during childbirth, the agony she suffered, she still managed to wear a smile on her face.

Personally, I'd never really understood the strength it took for a woman to push another life out of her until I witnessed it up close. My wife wailed. She screamed and strained so muchthat veins appeared on her forehead. She lost her voice at some point, lost her will to push, and almost even passed out.

Luckily, I was there for emotional support—an uncharted territory that I successfully navigated through. Her screams were so ear-piercing and unbearable that I couldn't even bring myself to imagine the kind of pain she was going through.

She’d been covered in profuse sweat, her breathing was heavy, and basically every muscle in her body was constricted. I thought she was going to die—that I was going to lose her. But she proved to be a mighty woman, strong and determined.

My respect for Tessa doubled when she finally came down after hours of hard labor. She went through all that pain and agony to ensure our baby was born. Why wouldn't I respect such a person? She endured and survived a kind of pain that most of my victims wouldn't withstand if subjected to it.

“Here,” I said softly, handing the baby back to her. I could sense her longing to hold the child again.

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